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PROLOGUE

DAVE ‘FERGIE’ FERGUSON

She was talking.

Going off on God only knew what.

Her car probably, seeing as I might have worked it in a way for her to have tapped my truck with her little old rust bucket. The thing should have been sold off for scraps before either of us were born, but that was neither here nor there.

Whatever she was saying, I wasn’t paying attention. I tried, but it was hard for me to focus. And honestly, who could blame me with her green eyes blazing with fury and every beautiful feature that made her, her seeming to be illuminated by the sun slowly starting to set behind her?

Roxanne Marquez, known as Roxie to those in her circle, was fucking magnificent.

Gorgeous in a wild, almost bratty way. There was something about her that made it hard for me to concentrate, to think straight. I smirked. Might be why I had this fender bender in the first place?

I wasn’t like the other typical college guys at this school.

For one, I was a year older since I’d been red-shirted my freshman year. Plus, I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and no had never been part of my vocabulary. Despite the charmed life I had led of vacationing on different continents and being sent to boarding schools and training camps with baseball legends, I wasn’t a complete asshole. Or at least I liked to think I was a hell of a lot nicer than the other rich assholes I’d grown up with.

Or I thought I was.

Until I met Roxanne.

Roxanne with her sassy attitude, smart mouth, and green eyes I felt they saw through the golden boy mask I hid behind had led me to this point. To making bad decisions. She could have stopped this, but she’d forced my hand to do something extreme when she turned me down or, hell, most of the time didn’t give me the time of day whenever I saw an opportunity to strike up a conversation with her on campus.

“Hello! Are you even listening?” she asked, waving her hands in front of me. I felt my lips twitch upward. Fuck, she is cute. I didn’t try to hide the way my eyes skated up and down her body with clear, unadulterated appreciation.

“Pig,” she muttered under her breath. “I’m done with this. Your truck’s fine.” She started to turn, that little pleated skirt she wore twirling, giving me a little peek at the cute little cheeky white cotton boy shorts she wore underneath, when my hand snapped up and caught her wrist.

“What the hell do you⁠—“

“You fucked up my truck.” Brat. The little nickname lingered on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it away. Not time yet.

“It’s a scratch! Hardly even that.” She sighed, brushing overgrown bangs away from her face. She had no idea just how much worse she made her situation by letting me look into her green eyes.

Let her go, man, the good guy inside of me whispered. Let her go and go hook up with one of the many girls who can actually stand the sight of you, he urged, but the devilish guy, the one who didn’t mind getting his hands dirty when it meant getting what he wanted, what he was entitled to, rolled his eyes.

“It’s fucked up. You hit me. Now, can you give me your insurance information so we can get this shit fixed? I get that the damage to yours doesn’t matter to you.” I pointedly looked at her old piece-of-shit car. “Since I’m not even sure what dent might have happened when you rear-ended me⁠—“

“That’s not⁠—“

“But I care. I care a lot. I like my things. I take care of my things.” Like I’ll take care of you. Or at least I would while she was mine.

While she is mine. Her eyes connected with mine, staring at me head on without flinching, and for a moment, the thought of having her and letting her go didn’t settle right with me.

“Look.” She licked her lips, forcing me to look at that shiny, glossy pout I was dying to taste.

I wasn’t sure when this interest in her had turned into obsession or what the hell the asshole she’d brought to life inside of me even was. All I knew was I couldn’t get enough of her. It was like I devoured every little morsel of information I learned about her after she told me she’d rather walk home barefoot through vines of roses than have a drink with me, which was the moment something inside me had changed.

I’d known I was capable of dark shit. I’d grown up with rich obnoxious assholes my entire life. Men who thought power and money were the only thing that was worthwhile and that the women on their arms were like trophies that reflected their success.

I’d promised myself I wouldn’t be like that.

Taking shit that wasn’t mine just because I wanted it, being selfish and a dick, had never been what I wanted.

Hell, I’d worked hard at school and on the field to get where I was. Things might have been handed to me, put me in spaces to help facilitate things, but I had earned my spot not just on the team as the starting pitcher and a possible first pick for this upcoming draft to play professional baseball, but I had also earned being in the top ten of my class. If I decided not to play ball after graduation, I already had law school acceptance letters waiting for me.

“You’re not listening,” she huffed, and I blinked.